Catalyst
by Bree-Bee
Summary: Blaise Zabini's fey light has enchanted Harry. But Blaise is just the catalyst that will result in the greatest romance the wizarding world has ever known- one between Harry and Draco.
1. Default Chapter

Author's note:

         Was anyone else disappointed at Draco's complete lack of development in OotP? He had such a little role! But H/D sails on- after all, that's what fanfics are for. (Translation: there will be **male/male** relationships later on, so let's follow the **don't like**-**don't read** policy. *snickers* It's hard to believe there are still non-slashers though.) Please review after you're done and tell me what you think of my first Harry Potter fic.

Disclaimer: This piece of fanfiction is based upon characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and her publishers. I am not making any money off this, and no copyright infringement is intended. 

Ron managed to salvage an 'Acceptable' in Potions, but since Snape blatantly refused to take students who got anything other than 'Outstanding' (although I believe Dumbledore convinced him to also allow a few 'Exceeds Expectations') it was just Hermione and I hurrying into the dungeons the first day of our sixth year. Hermione considered Ron's O.W.L.s "an absolute disgrace" (to be fair to Ron, Hermione considered 99/100 "simply and utterly atrocious") but Ron pointed out that never again having to suffer through Potions with Snape and his beloved Slytherins was no major loss on his part.

 As 'Mione and I walked past Malfoy, I braced myself for any and every possible malicious insult that he could possibly hurl my way. After all there are certain undeniable facts of life: Hermione's the smartest and most dedicated student of our year, Snape never misses an opportunity to take points from Gryffindor, Voldemort is evil, and Draco Malfoy goes out of his way to make my life miserable. And these facts keep the world turning, the universe in sync.

          So imagine my complete shock when I was greeted only by…silence. Malfoy's intense and penetrating gaze remained focused on the entrance to the classroom; I doubt that he even registered my presence. Hermione receiving a lower grade in Charms than Ron, Snape letting me to come into class late, blow up two cauldrons, and dump a particularly nasty concoction on him all in one day without a single deduction, Voldemort handing out Christmas gifts at an Muggle orphanage dressed as jolly old Saint Nick, his outfit complete with a fake cotton beard- anything was now possible now that the forces of the universe were dangerously out of balance. 

          Taking my seat next to Hermione, I snuck a questioning glance in Malfoy's direction. He was surrounded by a gaggle of giggling Slytherin girls, who neatly occupied a ring of seats around him. But oddly enough the desk directly to his right was empty- it was as if he as reserving it for someone. I wracked my brain for the names of the Slytherins Malfoy usually associated with. It couldn't possibly have been Crabbe or Goyle (the thought of them receiving an 'Outstanding' on their O.W.L.s would be enough to cause Ron to laugh so hard that he'd have to be sent to the hospital wing or die from lack of oxygen). Millicent Bulstrode? No, she wasn't the brightest crayon in the box either. Pansy Parkinson? No, upon closer inspection she was part of the flock of girls surrounding Malfoy. I chewed my bottom lip thoughtfully but I couldn't think of a single possible candidate. 

          An ominous hush fell over the classroom as Snape walked to his desk and slowly scrutinized the students sitting before him.

          "Only the very best pupils make it into my N.E.W.T. class," Snape began in his characteristically calm and quiet tone. "But this year," he continued as his gaze lingered on me briefly, "there seem to be a few… exceptions."

I felt the tips of my ears turning pink and I instinctively clenched my right hand into a fist. Hermione shot me a comforting, almost maternal, glance and I slowly relaxed my hand.

"You will be attempting prepare some of the most potent and difficult potions this year. While I am confident that you have the intelligence, talent, and competence to make them on your own, due to the increased efforts to promote the relationship between houses some assignments will involve working with a partner. The partner you will be assigned shall not be from your house." 

Hermione clacked her teeth absentmindedly, a sure sign that she's annoyed or stressed, and I thanked Merlin that our class was composed of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws along with Slytherins. Although Snape seemed to enjoy partnering me with Malfoy in hopes that the git would show me up, as seen by the dueling club incident back in our first year, I don't think he'd want me to ruin his top student's marks by horribly botching every mixture we'd do. Personally, if I were Snape I'd partner Malfoy with Hermione- with his incredible potion skills (I hate to admit it, but I have to give props when props are due) and her cleverness they'd probably make a super potion that could do Merlin knows what. That, and I would take a shower.

"Since the duration for these partnerships will last for the whole school year I suggest you and your partner learn to get along," Snape finished and with a sharp flick of his wand, the arrangements appeared on the blackboard. 

"Mandy Brocklehurst," Hermione said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I don't know why but for a second I had this horrible feeling, a premonition almost, that I'd be put with Malfoy."

I laughed. "And that's why you dropped Divination 'Mione."

She airily ignored my comment. "So who's your partner Harry?"

I looked at the writing on the board. "Blaise Zabini. Who's that?"

Hermione brows furrowed slightly, something she always did when she was trying to recall information that was on the tip of her tongue but was escaping her for the moment. "Blaise's a Slytherin. His twin sister Blair, she's a Ravenclaw, was in my Ancient Runes class last year. I know the Zabinis are a rich and powerful wizarding family. They can trace their family tree back to Morgan le Fey at one point, which is really noticeable since Blaise's sister bears a striking resemblance to Morgan." 

I cringed because the image of Morgan le Fey in our history textbooks was of a slightly plump, middle-aged woman with gleaming, predatory eyes and a richly rouged mouth that would occasionally curve into a smug grin similar to that of a kitchen cat.

Snape flicked his wand and the blackboard was wiped clean; with another flick a list of potion names appeared. "Copy these down and research each one. I expect a five foot essay on the first potion on tomorrow: include information about how and by whom the potion was invented, ingredients, general procedure, appearance, distinguishing characteristics, and its significance."

The silence that followed Snape's speech was interrupted only by the subtle scratching sound of quills on parchment. Suddenly, the door to the classroom opened and the scratching sounds ceased abruptly. A blanket of silence settled over the room as everyone turned to see the person with enough nerve to be late to Potions.

In strolled a gorgeous demi-god. His fine, almost delicate, features were finely carved; the master hand that sculpted him did not make a single error. His smooth, sable hair was the warm shade of milk chocolate. Incredibly dark lashes framed his enchanting, shadowy eyes. Sudden surges of possessiveness bubbled as I noticed that every person in the room (excluding Snape but including Hermione, though she was attempting to be discrete) was eyeing his lean yet slightly muscular frame that could make the straightest man alive reconsider. He possessed the notorious Slytherin air of grace, confidence, and predation- but to a lesser degree than Malfoy and the other Slytherins. Perhaps what made him really stand out, however, was that he seemed to radiate a subtle, starlight-like glow. 

"You're late," Malfoy growled as the demi-god sat down besides him.

The brunette purred in response, and laughed as a faint tinge of pink began to spread across Malfoy's face.

"Mr. Zabini," Snape snapped coolly, though nowhere near as frigidly as the tone he takes when speaking to me. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence, but would you care to elaborate on why you are late?"

"I was promoting inter-house relations," was the calm and nonchalant reply.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "And exactly how were you accomplishing said task?" 

Blaise grinned. "I was helping a Ravenclaw find her way to my dorm."

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust and Malfoy looked equally displeased.

"Do you think Snape will actually give one of his precious Slytherins detention?" I whispered to Hermione.

"I don't see how he could simply write-off Blaise's flagrant disobeying of school policy," Hermione whispered back.

Snape's eyes glinted maliciously. "I did not give you permission to talk Mr. Potter and Miss Granger- 10 points from Gryffindor. Now get back to work." The scribbling of quills commenced as Snape turned his attention back to Blaise. I pretended to write as I avidly viewed the scene out of the corner of my eye, hoping that Hermione was in a generous mood and would let me copy her notes after class. "And although your effort to 'promoting inter-house relations' and unify the students of Hogwarts is noble, Mr. Zabini, I am afraid I will have to give you detention," Snape stated, a sour expression on his face, as if punishing a member of his house left a foul tasting residue in his mouth. "Mr. Malfoy, you may inform Mr. Zabini of what he has missed."  

"I thought Ravenclaws were suppose to be smart. You think they'd learn to stay away from you by now," Malfoy hissed to Blaise quietly.

"The first years don't know yet," Blaise countered, and smiled sardonically as Malfoy's scowl deepened.

"I though you had '_morals'." _

Blaise's eyes narrowed. "I do, and I have standards too. Anyways calm down, I was just joshing you."

"So what, or who, where you really doing?" 

Blaise shrugged indifferently. "So what did Professor Snape want you to fill me in on?"

Malfoy looked reluctant to change the subject but answered Blaise's question, nonetheless. "He's assigned us partners from other houses. You're with Potter."

Blaise looked amused. "And who gets the privilege of working with you?"

"Some stupid _Hufflepuff." (Hufflepuff was uttered like a curse word) "Anyways, Professor Snape wants you to copy down the list of potions on the board and write a three foot long composition about the first one's origin, ingredients, procedure…"_

          His name repeats through my head like a mantra. _Blaise Zabini, Blaise Zabini, Blaise…_ I bet he loves blueberries, and strawberries covered with chocolate and whipped cream. I bet he has a weakness for blue eyes. I bet he loves Italian food. I bet he dominates at chess, but doesn't even know how to play checkers…

          "Stop it," Hermione hisses quietly. "You hate how everyone has their misconceptions about you, and here you are blithely creating your own about him."

I grunted. It's scary, sometimes, how perceptive that girl can be. 

"Not so blithely," I returned. "I bet he hates eggplant."

~ * ~

I heard my name being called as Hermione and I walked out of Potions class. The voice was enchanting and hypnotizing: smooth and golden, like honey, but also as cool and refreshing as ocean foam. Quickly turning around, I came face to face with no other than the gorgeous deity whose very name had been replaying in my head like a broken record. 

"Meet me in the library after dinner, Potter," Blaise whispered in my ear, sending delicious shivers down my spine. "Might I suggest you take a nap, because it'll be an all-nighter." 

And with an elegant swish of his robes, Blaise walked off to join Malfoy (who was eyeing me carefully).

"Be careful Harry," Hermione cautioned as we watched the retreating figures of the two Slytherins. 

"I will," I replied automatically.

So whatcha think? Like I said, please review (but don't flame). Later days, lol.


	2. Chapter 2

Special thanks to hpgryffin (*gasp*, not the same hpgryffin who's the brilliant writer of "Artificial Passion"?! I love your Blaise!), Redmeadow, ncgal, and Malfoy Snogger for being kind enough to review.

Warnings: male/male relationships, euphemisms, and clichés (I'm sorry, but I just can't help myself!)

          "I'm full," I stated contentedly, pushing away my plate and hurriedly wiping my mouth with a napkin.

          "Never waste food," Ron chided, as he scooped the remains of my half-eaten apple pie onto his plate. "You sure ate fast today, what's the rush?"

          I took a deep breath and prayed for the best. An angry Ron was about as scary as a cross between a jealous Veela and a charging hippogriff. "I'm meeting Blaise Zabini in the library."

          Ron's hand that was holding his fork stopped in midair. He blinked and set down his utensil gingerly. "I sorry, I must've misheard you. You did say **Blair** Zabini, right?"

          "No, I said 'Blaise'. B-l-a-i-s-e." 

"I see," Ron said, his voice becoming strained. "Are you sure you're talking about Blaise?" he asked desperately. "After all, Blaise and Blair do look a lot a like."

I glared at him. "I'm definitely talking about Blaise. You know, he's the male Zabini twin." 

          Ron shook his head disbelievingly. "Blaise Zabini? He's a stupid, insufferable, self-absorbed git who'll try to seduce you to the dark side!"

          Thankfully Hermione decided at this point to interfere. "Honestly Ron, do you even know him?"

          "I know that he's a Slytherin!" Ron retorted heatedly.

          "You really shouldn't stereotype people like that!" Hermione replied, becoming shrill. "Just because he's a Slytherin doesn't mean he's a mini-Death-Eater!"

          Ron scowled.

          Hermione glowered back with equal intensity.

          I decided to leave before green light began shooting out of their eyes. 

~*~

          Blaise was sitting at a table by himself, but throngs of girls who would occasionally glance in his direction and break out in giggles occupied all the tables surrounding him.

          With Hermione's words still ringing in my ears, I decided to approach him cautiously. I cleared my throat self-consciously, causing him to look up from his book. My line of attack was set: ask exactly what his motives are, what he plans to accomplish… 

          Wow, I had always thought he had deer eyes, but up close they were a shocking shade of green. No, the word "green" did not give his eyes enough justice, but trying to define the exact hue of his brilliant orbs would be like trying to convey the beauty of a rainbow using only a black marker.

          "Since when did you have eyes the exact shade of midsummer's sunlight on a field of clovers?" I demanded, too upset over the fact that I would have to rethink my conceptions of him to think about what I was saying. 

          "Since when did you have eyes the shade of winter moonlight on shadowy emeralds?" he returned, a smiling tugging at the corners of his mouth as he looked at me quizzically. "I'm surprised you noticed though, most people don't… or chose not to. I have to say your description has been one of the best I've ever received." He paused briefly. "Then again, normally only silly love-struck girls give me compliments about my eyes." He paused again. "Do you always use euphemisms like Draco uses hair-gel?"

          Realization of what I said slowly began to sink in as I sat down in the chair besides him. 

          "I'm sorry," I muttered as I felt the tips of my ears go crimson. "I didn't mean what I said."

          Blaise pouted. "Oh I'm hurt," he declared dramatically. "You mean my eyes aren't the color of midsummer's sunlight on a field of clovers?"

          I felt my face burn. "No! I mean yes, yes they are, but I didn't mean to say that! Arg, I had this whole conversation planned out inside my head and now I can't remember a single word of it."

          Blaise smiled. "Life is complicated. It can never be as simple as the inside of your head."

          I smiled back, feeling more at ease, simply because Blaise's philosophy struck me as very 'Hermione-ish'. Wait… did Blaise just insinuate that I was simple minded?!

          "Have you started on Professor Snape's assignment yet?" he continued, still being 'Hermione-ish'.

          I shook my head, still angry about the 'simple' comment but too distracted by the newly discovered fact that Blaise had scattered golden buttercups in his field of clover eyes to do anything. (Well, except admire said eyes and think of more intolerably sappy euphuisms.)

          "Tsk, tsk, Potter. And you managed to get into his elite N.E.W.T.s class how? But that's why we're here, and why we will continue to meet every night- there is no way I am letting you ruin my outstanding grades with your abysmal Potion skills. Now, do you anything about Amourelle?"

          "It was invented by Morgan le Fey," I offered. "And it involves the use of a milpreve."

"And what, exactly, can you tell me about milpreves, Potter?" he asked, sounding mildly surprised.

          "It's a druid stone. Kings of the otherworld, goddesses, and powerful folk wore them a long time ago. But now they've come to represent the power of the fays."

          "The power of the fays," Blaise repeated absentmindedly. "But some have chosen to throw it away."

          "Why would one ever consider that?" I asked disbelievingly. "Milpreves are great agents of power! Such stones are incredibly rare, and only go to those who are destined for them! Abandoning one's stone would be like disregarding one's fate!"

"For a fay, there are even harder choices," he whispered softly. His eyes seemed to be focused on a vague middle distance, somewhere between here and a place far away. "We all have shadows, is it not so? And we must all choose how to use our shadows. We must choose whether to be content or unhappy. The ancient magic of the moon or the striving, aspiring way of sorcery." 

"Blaise," I started, unsure, but wanting to pull him from the darkness in which the words grew.

He continued as though he didn't hear. "Cernunnos, the antlered one, gave Morgan that advice shortly after she first arrived in Avalon."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand."

Blaise blinked, and his dark eyes once again focused on me. "You don't understand, I don't understand…" And then so softly I had to strain to hear, "and neither did she."

"You are related to her," a mix between a statement and a question, as I carefully studied his profile, trying to see the family resemblance that Hermione said was so evident in his twin.

"You think I look nothing like her," Blaise said with a lazy smile. "But that is because you have not seen the true Morgan le Fey." As he spoke he retrieved a silver mirror from his pocket. The mirror was small, yet noble, with the words 'Draco Malfoy' written elegantly in calligraphy across the top. "He is far too concerned with his hair," Blaise offered as an explanation when I looked at him curiously. "Besides, I put it to better use." 

The mirror was like a silver pool in the palm of Blaise's hand. "Show me what I want," he murmured as he slowly slanted the mirror. In the depth of the mirror, shadows began to swirl and slowly part, revealing the reflection of a lovely young girl, shining with the sheen of faery power. Her brow was willful, her skin was as perfect as porcelain, her hair was sable smooth, and her eyes (one a brilliant green, the other a dusky violet) bright and intelligent. It was uncanny, the resemblance between her and Blaise.

"That's Morgan le Fey?" I asked in shock.

"The way she was when she was our age," sadly nostalgic, yet with spoken with underlying fondness. 

"How are you doing that?"

"It's called scrying." 

"Where did you learn to scry?" 

"The fays taught it to me."

 "What can you scry?"

"Images of all things real- although it may show something long past, or yet to come."

"The past?" I could feel my throat tighten. Was it possible? "Could the mirror show me my parents?"

The look on Blaise's face darkened. "It would not be wise to."

"But you could. Please Blaise. Please…" my voice cracked painfully.

Blaise looked at me and his mouth tightened into a thin line, but nevertheless he complied. 

The shadows began to swirl once again, and this time they separated to reveal the shocked expression of a handsome young man with messy black hair that stuck up in the back and the joyous, yet slightly nervous, expression of a young woman with dark, thick auburn hair and startling emerald eyes. My parents… The powerful ache of half joy, half terrible sadness began tugging at my heat.

"You're pregnant?" my father whispered hoarsely. "I'm going to be a father?"

 My mum nodded shyly. 

 "This is great!" my father shouted. "We're going to be _parents_! Are you having a girl? Let's name her Alyssa! No, Bridget! Wait, Cassandra is nice. Maybe Dana. What about Evangeline?"

"Before you go through the whole alphabet James dear, I think the baby's a boy. How do you feel about the name Harry? Harry James Potter. It's a good, strong name- like the good, strong man he'll become." My mother sighed dreamily. "I've always wanted a little boy with your black hair," she said as she ruffled my father's already messy hair.

"But your nose," he returned, gently planting a kiss on the bridge of her nose.

My mom giggled. "Your charm."

"Your eyes."

"Your smile."

"Your compassion."

"You sense of mischief." She frowned. "But hopefully not."         

          They both laughed and the image began to fade.

          "No!" I cried. "Bring them back! Show me my parents again!" I shouted, not caring that we were in a library.

          "Don't you dare raise your voice and order me around like some lowly house-elf," Blaise hissed harshly. "Only a favored few have the privilege of seeing a fay scry. Do not make the mistake of angering me."

          His icy tone and expression made me flush, but I refused to let the matter drop. 

          "Teach me," I demanded like a spoilt child. "Teach me to scry."

          "You have dreams and visions. You do not see lies, but instead, much hateful truth. But the truth that scrying reveals hurts a hundredfold times more, dagger-sharp, because they are of you and your loved ones." Blaise's voice was slowly melting as he spoke. "Ihave seen the Morrigun doing her grisly task of washing dead bodies in nights of the dark moon. The water ran dark with blood- the blood of my family." His eyes closed mournfully. "So even if I had the power to, I would not teach you this fearsome craft."

          Guilt bubbled inside of me, for causing the intense look of sorrow and exhaustion on his face.

          "I'm sorry," I began. His eyes opened, and as he pocketed the mirror he smiled a smile that was too brilliant to be real. 

          "We have gotten off topic," he pronounced. "Amourelle…"

          "Blaise," a cool voice drawled. "Perhaps you have forgotten about your detention tonight with Professor Snape?"

Additional Disclaimer: Most information concerning Morgan le Fay, Cernunnos, milpreves, and scrying in this fic was obtained from I am Morgan le Fay, owned by Nancy Springer and her publishers. The line "Life is complicated. It can never be as simple as the inside of your head" is from Hana Yori Dango.  I am not making any money off this, and no copyright infringement is intended. 


	3. Chapter 3

Big thanks to Malfoy Snogger, luin-lote, angelpixiedust, lisawescott, and Layce74! You guys rock my socks!

**Warning**: Risqué (and real) names of alcoholic beverage names and future underage drinking! 

            "Of course not Draco. But there is the matter of this essay." Blaise replied, pushing his chair back and rising leisurely from his seat. Following his suit, I stood up too. I didn't like the idea of having to look up and crane my head to see Malfoy. 

          Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "I thought you already finished yours, Blaise."

          "I did," was the airy reply. "However, my partner hasn't and he could use some help." Blaise smiled his best do-gooder smile that could, quite possibly, make even Lucius Malfoy do something charitable. "Since I'm about to leave in a few minutes, could you possibly be a dear and-"

          Malfoy scowled and shook his head venomously. "No way! There is no way that I am going to tutor Potter while you scrub cauldrons, measure ingredients, or whatever lowly task Professor Snape subjects you to!"

          "Besides, I don't need his help!" I exclaimed.

          Blaise looked skeptical. "Right, you don't Draco's help with your assignment just like Draco doesn't need a professional manicurist's help to get his nails that shiny and neatly trimmed."

          Malfoy and I both glared at him.

          Blaise glared back at both of us. "Yes, you need assistance," he said to me. I opened my mouth to protest yet again, but his eyes flashed a dangerous, shimmering shade of clover, and I decided to follow his advice of never angering a fey. I suppose I did need _some help with my Potion's homework. Blaise turned his attention to Malfoy. "And yes, you are going to be the one to assist him."_

          Malfoy was unfazed and shook his head fervently. "No!! Bloody hell, I wouldn't do it for a brand new Firebolt! Not for a million galleons! Not for a chateau in France, a villa in Italy, and a penthouse in New York! There is **nothing you could offer that would make me even consider-" **

          Malfoy was getting so worked up that I wondered if he always acted like the Drama King of the Silver Screen. I also had to wonder if there _was_ anything in the world that could entice the boy who had everything. 

          "I'll get Pansy off your case."

          Malfoy stopped ranting. Although he couldn't help but look interested, his tone was thinly veiled with suspicion. "Will she stop trying to get into my pants?"

          "She'd treat them like designer knock-offs. Pansy won't go within a twenty foot radius."

          "She'd stop clinging onto me?"

           "The scent of obsession will no longer linger in the air around you." Blaise scrunched up his nose. "I never liked that perfume." 

          "I wouldn't have to deal with her constant bitching? Her dreadful mood swings?"

          "Goyle couldn't be more stolid, not even after being hit with five horse tranquilizers."

          Malfoy paused. "And there would be no more insufferable pet names?" he ventured hopefully.

          "Well I don't know about that, Drakie-poo."

          "Sod off," was the sharp reply, but there was no malice in his tone. Malfoy looked at me warily, his eyes straying from Blaise's face for the first time since he had arrived.

          "Fine," he finally relented. "But I'm only helping Potter this one time." He paused. "And I need a drink first. Getting drunk is the only way that's going to make any of this tolerable."

          I frowned. How could drunk!Malfoy possibly help me with my essay? And would drunk!Draco be even more of a git than sober!Malfoy? Come to think of it- was it possible for Malfoy to be any more insufferable, under any circumstance, than he already was?

          "I could use a drink too. Let's go up to the dorm and mix something up," Blaise suggested, grinning mischievously. 

           "I don't want Potter in our Common Room," Draco spat, making it sound like I had a weird and contagious disease that would cause anything I touched to become contaminated.

          "It's not like I haven't been in it before," I muttered angrily under my breath.

         The two were too engaged in their argument to register my last comment. Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco. "Come on Draco, stop being a prat? What are you worried about? Do you honestly think he'd steal our password, sneak in while everyone's sleeping, and totally trash the place? Potter's a _Gryffindor_. He has too much do-gooder spirit."

          "You make it sound like a bad thing," I mumbled, only to be ignored once again.

          "Precisely," Malfoy said tersely. "This is Saint Potter we're talking about! Do you honestly think he'd join us in having Blow Jobs in our room?"

          My eyes bulged. Wait, what?! Weren't they talking about drinks? How'd they get on the subject of _that? And what about me joining them??!! _

          "We don't have any whipped cream," Blaise replied coolly. 

          Draco looked disappointed. "Wild Sex then."

          I felt myself blush and stifled a snort. I couldn't help it- the word 'sex' always made me uncomfortable. 

          "No Grenadine."

          Did one need 'grenadine' to… do the deed? Or was 'grenadine' some kind of kinky sex toy? What if 'Grenadine' was the name of a person?! I felt myself blush harder. Oh Merlin, think good and wholesome thoughts- Campbell's chicken soup, making snow angels in the freshly fallen snow, sitting in front of the fireplace and drinking hot chocolate…

          "Sex in the Shower?"

          Blaise shook his head.

          "What do we have to work with?" Draco asked, sounding irritated. 

          "My sister has the ingredients in order to make Strawberry Daiquiris," Blaise offered. "Virgin Strawberry Daiquiris."

          Malfoy brightened. "S'ok, I have some light rum."

          "So it's settled then?"

          Malfoy's face darkened again. "I still don't want Potter invading our territory."

          Blaise sighed, obviously tired of bickering, and looked thoughtful for a moment. "I suppose Blair wouldn't mind if we had them in the Ravenclaw Common Room," he said after deliberating for a few moments. Malfoy made no motion to object. "Good, now it's finally settled. Now hurry up and go get the rum, Draco, and meet us there in ten minutes."

Well what do you think? I don't like this chapter as much as the other ones, but it sets the stage for some good ol' Harry and Draco interaction. Please review! And in case anyone was wondering-

**Blow Job #1**: 1.5 oz. Amaretto and Whipped Cream       

**Wild Sex**: Ice, 1 oz. Malibu rum, ½ oz. Peach Schnapps, ½ oz. 151 Proof Rum, 1 oz. Orange Juice, 1 oz. Cranberry Juice, 1 oz. Pineapple Juice, and ½ oz. Grenadine (it's a syrup made form pomegranates)

**Sex in the Shower**: Ice, 1 oz. Blue Curacao, 1 oz. Triple Sec, 1 oz. Butterscotch Schnapps, and 2 oz. Orange Juice   


	4. Chapter 4

Lotsa love to angelpixiedust, beenieweenie, sapphire-wolf1, luin-lote, panderia, wanderingwolf, and eveylici0uz!

Warning: The 'o' word.

          "You antagonize him," Blaise said, as we walked down an empty corridor, aligned with statues and marble carvings.  

          "No I don't," I returned defensively.

          He looked at me, an unreadable expression on his face. "Granger- list her best qualities."

          "She's clever and smart, the top student in our year," I instantly replied. "She's compassionate, even to house elves. She's strategic, and plans ahead-"

          Blaise cut me off. "Now name her negative qualities." 

          "She can be a know-it-all at times." I paused to think for a moment. "And sometimes she lives life too by the book." I paused again.

          Blaise shot me another look. "Now name Draco's negative qualities."

          "He's a snob- always thinks he's better than everyone else just because he's a Malfoy," I began easily. "He's rude. He walks like he owns the bloody school. He hides behind his father and his two goons-"

          "One, just name _one of his redeeming qualities."_

          "He…er…he has good breeding?" I offered, falteringly.

          Blaise stopped walking and looked me in the eye. "You're so quick to see the good in everyone else, and yet you refuse anything but the bad in him. Ivy tendrils."

          The Athena statue in front of us slid aside to reveal the Ravenclaw common room, ending our discussion. I followed, slightly nervous, as Blaise stroll in leisurely.

          Quite honestly, if it hadn't been for the purple sofa and chairs arranged around the crackling fire in fireplace, I would've thought I had accidentally stepped into the library. Tall wooden bookcases were aligned along the walls, their shelves filled with novels on various subjects. On the coffee table in front of the sofa was a large pile of scrolls and parchment. There was even a painting, hanging above the mantle of the fireplace, which looked quite similar to the school's librarian.

          The silhouette of a girl could be seen, sitting on the purple sofa, watching two other girls who were playing chess in front of the fireplace.

          The girl on the coach turned to look in our direction at the sound of our approaching footsteps. As we walked closer, it obvious that she was Blair. She had all of Blaise's features… but her hair was longer, her skin was slightly fairer than Blaise's, her nose was a bit more pert, more ski-jump like, and her eyes gleamed a deep and dusky shade of amethyst instead of a bright clover green. But the most noticeable thing of all was the subtle, star-like glow that Blaise possessed was magnified by ten-fold in his twin. The glimmering fey sheen all around her was so brilliant, it made me blink.

          "Blaise!" she cried happily, as she jumped up from her seat energetically.

          Blaise smiled at his sister fondly. "How was your day?"

          "Fine, I heard _you got in trouble for being late to Potions though."_

          "Detention tonight, but we have more important thing to discuss. I need to borrow the tablecloth and your common room. Draco, Harry, and I want to make Strawberry Daiquiris."

          "So this is-"

          "I'm Harry. Harry Potter," I said shyly.

          To my surprise, there was no familiar flickering of the eyes to my scar. Instead, her eyes remained locked with mine as she curtsied.

          "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I'm Blair Zabini."

          I bowed clumsily in return.

          Blaise rolled his eyes. "So now you do the whole pearls and lace thing Blair?"

          Blair looked indignant. "I'll have you know that I live by the handbook on how to act like a proper young lady 24/7.

          "So that would be 24 days a month, 7 months a year?"

         Blair glared at her brother, and then turned to smile sweetly at me. "You're welcomed here anytime Harry. And if my brother would stop acting like such a git then maybe I'll remind him of the fact that the tablecloth should be with his luggage."

          Blaise groaned. "Oh yeah…"

          "Oh raspberries," she teased. "I guess you'll have to run back to your room and get it. Don't worry; I'll keep Harry here entertained. I'm sure he'll love to hear that story about the time you were six years old and-" 

          "Say anything and I'll convince Mother that, perhaps, Goyle would be a suitable future husband for you." And with a familiar swish of his robes, Blaise walked off. 

          "He never plays fair anymore," Blair said frowning. "I think Draco might be a bad influence on him."

          "Is that how you think of Malfoy? Nothing personal, I just want to know how other people see him."

          "Oh no, don't get me wrong, I think Draco's darling," she corrected hurriedly. "But sometimes I can't help worrying about his loyalties. I know he'd never do anything to hurt Blaise but…" her voice drifted off and she looked at her hands helplessly. "It's not fair to ask me this. Mandy! Lisa!" The two girls playing chess paused and looked at Blair expectantly. "Tell Harry what you two think of Draco."

          "He's quite mean," the first girl stated. 

          "Totally and completely self-absorbed prat," added the second.

          "Uses way too much hair-gel."

          "Pretty childish sometimes."

          "Thinks he's hotter than Tabasco Sauce."

          There was a pause, and then a giggle. "He is hot though. You know… he has that whole evil, confident, bad-boy kind of allure."

          The second girl nodded in agreement. "He's no sex-god, but you could imagine having the best orgasm of you life with him then opening your eyes to see him all the way across the room. Fully dressed." Ok, now this was way too much information! 

          "And some of his insults would be quite funny if he'd just say them with a bit less malice." The first girl giggled again. "All and all I'd say he's just snarky."

          "The best kind of snarky," the other girl said as she moved her knight. "Checkmate." 

          The first girl looked disbelievingly at chessboard and sighed in defeat. "Good game. I'm heading to the library, some of us are meeting to discuss the different beliefs of philosophers through the age, want to come?

          "So what have we learned?" Blair asked, perfectly serious, as the two Mandy and Lisa left the room. "That the subject of boys can turn two perfectly sensible Ravenclaw girls, who can debate Plato and quote Socrates, into giggling idiots. I wonder what it does to the Hufflepuffs." 

          "I did not need to hear that fully dressed comment," I shuddered.

          Blair looked concerned. "You look greener than a cute boy such as yourself should. Want to play chess until Blaise and Draco come back?"


	5. Chapter 5

I would like to thank Malfoy Snogger, beenieweenie, Aku-Kitsune, Lady Darkness13, luin-lote, Bardic Trainee, Anna57, Witch Child4, and all the little people. lol, just kidding of course ;)! Oh and don't you guys worry, the Gary Stu-ish-ness of Blaise fades fast.

Terribly sorry about the shortness of this chapter, but school is a real pain! I'll try to update once a week though, just 'cause I love y'all.

          One couldn't be best friends with Ron without picking up a few pointers for chess. So when Draco and Blaise entered the Ravenclaw common room, it was needless to say that I was winningly fairly easily.

          "Are we alone?" Malfoy asked as his eyes scanned the room.

          "There's a discussion going on in the library," Blair said, rising from her seat and abandoning our game. "No one should be back until nine o'clock."

          Blaise took out a large square of linen from beneath his robes. Craning my neck, I could see that every inch of the cloth was covered with embroideries of an elaborate feast.

          Suddenly, the linen flew out of Blaise's grasp! It unfolded itself and hung in the air, all straight edges and sharp corners- exactly as if there was an invisible table was beneath it.

          Blaise cleared his throat. "Good tablecloth, please set thyself."

          Dishes began popping out of the empty air and descending on the table with a thump. I cautiously rose from my seat and approached the tablecloth. The food looked real enough- there was a bowl of frozen strawberries, a small cup of lime juice, a sugar bowl… There were even china-plates, silverware, a blender, and crystal glasses to boot!

          "Did you have any trouble in the halls?" Blair asked as Malfoy produced the bottle of light rum that was hidden beneath his robes.

          "No." he answered curtly, in a final sort of tone.

          "We were briefly detained by Pansy though," Blaise added, "she could bear to let her precious Draco-cocoa-puff out of her sight."

          If Blaise or Blair found the fact that I was suddenly overcome by a fit of violent 'coughing' unusual, they were wise enough not to say anything. 

          "Oh- no need to make one for me, Draco darling," Blair said as I tried to regain my composure Malfoy, a scowl on his face, began blending together the lime juice, sugar, and rum. "I'm going to the library- I do love analyzing Machiavelli. I wonder what the others think about his belief that a permanent social order reflecting God's will cannot be established. After all, politics has its own laws and really ought to be a science-"

          Blaise looked like he was about to hit his sister with a spell that was certainly not a Cheering Charm. 

          Blair giggled. "Ok Blaise, I'll stop showing off now and leave. Tootles!" 

          As she walked away, I couldn't help but notice that she didn't swish her robes. 

          Turning my attention back to the daiquiris, I watched with interest as Malfoy carefully garnished each drink with fresh strawberries. The look on his face was of utmost concentration, and it was unusual to see him without his trademarked smirk…

          "I think we should have a toast," Blaise said, raising his glass. "In honor of what I'm presuming to be Potter's first real alcoholic drink." 

          I blushed and Malfoy scowled (I don't think he wanted to ever drink to me, save to my death), but we both followed suite nevertheless. 

          "To getting drunk, but hopefully without the nasty hangovers."

          As we clinked our glasses, I couldn't help but remember Hermione had once said. "When intoxicated, the words said are simply a drunken stupor and should never be taken to heart. But on the other hand, drunken words always hold more than just a grain of truth."

More things that are not mine: The magic tablecloth was borrowed from The Two Princesses of Bamarre.


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